


Diacope

by archeolatry



Category: Our Girl, Our Girl BBC
Genre: BBC, BBC drama - Freeform, Captain Dawesy, Captain Sternface, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archeolatry/pseuds/archeolatry
Summary: diacope:(di-ak-ә-pee) n.  1) A rhetorical term meaning repetition of a word or phrase with one or two intervening words; 2) A deep wound or incision. From the Greek thiakopi, meaning “cut in two”.





	Diacope

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Episode 3, Series 1

“Rise and shine, Dawesy!”

The sun had barely peeked above the mountains when Captain James charged into the med tent bearing two tin cups of steaming espresso. The first thing he saw was Smurf sitting on the exam table in his boxers and A-shirt. A cold shock shot through James before he noticed Molly standing beside, wrapping a long, vicious scrape on Smurf’s forearm in a strip of gauze. It did not escape his notice that she was in her pajamas and hoodie. 

“That for me, Captain?” Smurf grinned.

“This would be for our medic,” James said with a sniff of authority. “A reward for braving the perilous Bakerloo line.” He set the coffees down onto an empty clipboard and turned to the exam table. “What’s happened to you?”

“Took a tumble on the way to the loo, sir, thought I’d have it checked out. No sense in losin’ an arm to gangrene on the way home.”

James crossed his arms; sucked his teeth. A part of his mind jumped to all the worst possible conclusions: that Newport had been more than a friendly visit. That Smurf had paid her the same ‘friendly visit’ last night while he was ruminating over coffee pods. That Smurf had lingered in her tent until dawn, and now… 

“I cleaned the wound and gave it a bit of ointment,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “Should be fine. My little brother’s done worse on the playground.” She loosely swaddled the gauze in medical tape so it wouldn’t pull out any hair. “Anything else?”

Smurf hopped off the table, looking down his arm. “A fine a job as any medic’s ever done. ‘Less of course you wanna kiss it better.”

The captain scowled. “That’s uncalled for, Private.”

“Sorry Dawes.” He nodded at James. “Captain.” 

“S’alright,” Molly said dismissively as she scribbled at the log. “Jus’ keep an eye on it ‘til we get to Bastion. If it come loose or anything let me know.”

“Will do. Cheers, Molls.” Smurf’s head dipped in a little bow. “Sir.” He then took off toward the mess at a trot. The captain had daggers for him the whole way there.

“What was all that for?” Molly asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “He was just havin’ a laugh.”

“He shouldn’t speak to you like that, Dawes. You’re the medic, not his Mum.”

“He were just goofing around,” she said softly. “Bein’ mates.”

“Still…” The captain loosened his shoulders and turned to the coffee. “I thought you might want to try some of the Rosabaya,” he said, offering her a mug handle. “I know it’s not PG Tips, but I think you might enjoy it.”

Molly took possession of the half-scalding cup and sat down on the nearest chair. James watched intently as she sniffed at the steam, eyeballed the brew, and tentatively tilted the cup to her lips. 

“Oooh, that’s quite good, innit?” She sipped at it again, deeper this time. “Better’n Starbucks any day.”

James smiled despite himself, shaking his head. It was single-sourced Columbian coffee— _of course_ it was better than Starbucks. But she was enjoying it—that was the important thing. He watched Molly as she blew into the cup, cooling it before taking another sip. She rolled it around in her mouth, tasting it, thinking on it.

It was nothing like her gran’s Sanka, or the sugary, whipped cream-topped drinks she got while on break from the nail bar. And kind of sweet in its own way. Then again, she figured, if it came from a store where all they sold was coffee, there’d better be something to it.

He cleared his throat and settled against supply cabinet. “I’ve had some good news… Our contacts in Kabul let us know that Bashira has arrived at the safe house.” 

Molly’s face lit up despite her weariness. “Yeah? How is she?”

“I can’t say for sure. All I know is that she’s arrived in one piece.” He hid his expression under the rim of the coffee mug. He couldn’t say if she’d be able to go to school in Kabul, or if her mother was safe, or if her father knew where to find her... He didn’t ask. And anyway, it wasn’t any of his concern. _’Don’t get involved’,_ he reminded himself. _’Do not get in-fucking-volved.’_

“It’s good of you. To let me know.” She took another sip of coffee. “I know you was always telling me not to get involved—”

“I’m not getting involved, Dawes,” he said shortly. “I’m relaying news. That is all.” 

“I know, sir. I mean, I know you say that all the time. But…” She turned and met his eyes. “I don’t think you’d still be here if you didn’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t care, Dawes. Caring and being involved are two different beasts.”

“How’d you figure?”

“Caring is not an option. Involving yourself is. And it’s unlikely one can become involved and not care one way or another. I care about keeping the Taliban at bay. I care about children who have never known anything but war and destruction. But I can **not** get involved in the life of every barefoot child on this mountain. I am involved in this war, whatever it is, and I care about the section I am charged to lead. It is my job to care about the well-being of each and every soldier in my charge. Do you understand?”

She nodded glumly, averting her eyes back to the coffee. “Yes, sir.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. _‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,'_ James thought, _'and I could not travel both…’_ He stood up stiffly, but his eyes never left the floor. “That’s why I’m not going to get involved with you and Smurf.”

Molly’s face contorted into a sneer—half surprise, half revulsion. “What?” 

“The less I know, the less I’ll have to answer for at Bastion. Just, please…” The tightness in his chest was almost overwhelming. “Just give me some plausible deniability.”

“What’s that mean?” 

“It means that I don’t want to know _or_ care. It means we both pretend, Dawes. We pretend that there’s nothing going on and we go about with our lives.”

“Nothing _is_ goin’ on!” She checked her tone and added, “Sir.”

“What the two of you do on R &R is your own business. But you will not bring your personal feelings onto the battlefield where it can affect the rest of your unit. We must have twelve _equal_ soldiers in this section, none above the other.”

“Wot…you think I’m hooking up with Smurf on the exam table? Having a romantic liaison above the loo?”

“It’s none of my business,” he said in clipped tones. His stomach was nearly knotted up double.

“Once! It happened _once!_ In _Guildford!_ ”

“Lower your voice, Dawes.”

“If I’da known one hookup was gonna haunt me for the rest of my life I’d never have done it. It’s like being back at school all over again.” She shook her head. “What happened to ‘It’s not nineteen-fourteen’?”

“I’m not telling you no, or how many…” He had to grasp his cup it both hands to keep them from shaking. “I’m just asking you to please keep it out of my sight.”

Molly lurched into a slump, the same heart-twisting knot tangled inside her. She didn’t have the words to defend herself, or tell him her feelings, or even cry at the unfairness of it all. Instead, her mouth gaped like a caught fish. 

“Sir…” she pleaded.

“That’s an order, Dawes.” The captain drew himself up to his full height- shoulders back, chin forward. “We leave at o-six-hundred. Make sure you’ve got everything packed.” He then left the tent at full forward march.

She sat perfectly still, though her mind was racing. _’What was that all about? I told him—I TOLD HIM—that there weren’t nothing goin’ on.’_ She wiped a tear from her eye. _‘He’s just my mate. Ask anyone who seen me this whole trip. I was home, I wasn’t getting shot at, I could take a real shower for the first time in about a hundred years…and all I wanted was to come back to your stupid face in this stupid desert. And you didn’t even thank me for the bleedin’ coffee.’_

Molly glanced down at her hands; she was still holding the cup and balancing it on her thigh. She hadn’t even noticed it was beginning to burn. 

Without another thought, she threw the cup violently into the bin.

+++

_‘Do…not…get…involved…_ ’ James repeated it under his breath like a mantra as he did his morning sit-ups. _‘Do…not…get...in…fucking…volved…’_


End file.
